The Complete Works of Jack Frost
by dimmy52
Summary: With only a note directing him to Titans' Tower, a man walks the rainwashed streets of downtown Jump City. WHo is he? He doesn't know. Why are there men after him? He doesn't know. [Noiresque story, please read and review!]
1. Diner Dash

**Diner Dash**

_What a miserable night…_

With hands in my pockets I walked down the concrete pavement that wound its way through the heart of Jump City. My feet slapped nosily on the wet surface.

It was raining. Hard, cold, brutal rain lashed at my protected back as I hunched over slightly, shielding my front with my rear. Sleets of water poured down from the heavens above, drenching everyone and everything that got in its way.

The whole world that surrounded me was a mixture of dark and depressing shades, ranging from gray to black with sporadic spots of white here and there. A car drove quickly past, splashing me with muddy gutter water as its wheels ran over a murky puddle. I cursed silently.

_What did I do to deserve this?_

I continued my walk through downtown Jump City. The slums were all around me. The buildings were black and desolate, with wooden planks haphazardly nailed to the doors and windows. Century old architecture inhabited this street, and if this was a different world, maybe such structures will be regarded with respect as an icon of our glorious past. Here however, they were abandoned, derelict old heaps of wood long overdue for demolition.

I walked, with nothing but a raincoat and a note in my waterproof pocket. The note simply read:

_1 Titans' Tower_

_Titans Island, Jump City._

It was an address, nothing more, nothing less. The meaning of it was unknown to me.

It suddenly struck me.

_Who am I?_

Oh my God. I don't know… I don't know! My name, my history, my family… I have no idea! I ceased walking and stood still, the rain battering me relentlessly. I looked beside and around me, as if searching for something, _anything _that will give me a clue as to who I am. I turned to my right and saw light flooding the dark footpath just ahead of me. It's warming yellow luminescence inviting me, drawing me closer.

It was a small diner, one of those diners with the retro sixties feel to it. Vinyl seats, vinyl stools, even vinyl walls. It was a warm place, a cozy place, with all types of people enjoying a nice supper that brought back memories. A mother and son sat together in a booth, the child, only about five or six, sipping and slurping noisily at what remained of his chocolate milkshake. The mother scolded him, and he fell silent.

A man in weathered jeans and, of all things, a white and stained t-shirt that had a square with broken line borders containing the writing: 'Insert witty comment here' slouched over a mug of coffee, as if attempting to warm himself up from the cold outside.

A young couple, romantically in love sat clutching each other's hands over the red table-top. If only life was that perfect. I could tell that the man had lust, not love in his eyes as he held her hands over a crystal glass of ice-cream.

I entered and sat roughly on one of the soft red stools, and it spun slightly.

"What'll it be hon?"

I snapped my head to glance at the one who had addressed me. It was an elderly lady, perhaps in her mid to late fifties, with graying hair and adorned in a white apron stained all kinds of hues. A pair of rectangular glasses sat perched neatly atop her slightly crooked nose. She had a pleasant face, and an enlightening smile, one that comforted me whilst I sat and worried.

"You should relax lovey. What would you like?"

What _would _I like?

"I would like some information please." I said in a gravelly voice that was not my own.

"Sure hon. What would you like to know?"

The door rang, and a man entered, dressed in a similar raincoat as mine. Then another followed, then another, and finally one more. Four men walked briskly inside, and to the casual observer it seemed as if they were innocent bystanders simply getting shelter from the horrendous rain. I saw so much more, and I don't know why.

_Four men, early twenties._

_Black raincoat, concealing pistol._

_Broad shouldered, tense, looking for a fight._

I gazed at these fellows, then back to the expectant woman. She raised an eyebrow behind the rectangular lens.

"What day is it?"

"It's Tuesday."

Tuesday…

"And the date?"

"Twenty-third."

"Of…?" I let the word hang in the air.

"November. Geez what's the matter, suffering from Amnesia?"

"Do you have today's newspaper?"

"Sure do. Here you go." She replied, handing a tattered pile of loose papers to me. I took hold of it and after a silent Thank You; I removed it from her grip and placed it in front of me.

I scoured the headlines, hoping against hope that something might click, might come to me whilst I read.

"_Who is this man?"_ A Headline read, above a large picture that filled half a page.

I gazed at the picture. It was male, that much is certain. Everything else is debatable. The picture is truly the work of an amateur. It was extremely blurry, and the only other distinctive feature is a slight, reddish-gold reflection off a pair of what seemed to be sunglasses that he wore. I continued to read.

_This man, mistakenly known to many as 'The Joker' due to his constant smiling, was spotted leaving the scene of a murder of two families who were having an annual reunion. Both families consisted of a mother and father, two sons and two daughters. All twelve were slaughtered during their dinner. The man is wanted for questioning by the police._

Shocking, I surmised. I looked back nonchalantly at the newcomers. They had split up, two circling towards my left and the other two to my right. I place the newspaper down on the bench and slide it across back towards the elderly lady.

"One last question." I said, turning my back to her.

"Sure thing hon."

They were closer now, almost ready to pounce.

"Who am I?"

The man on my left struck first. He launched a fist towards my face, but I pulled my head back and it simply grazed the edge of my nose. I whipped up a wooden serving platter, complete with scalding hot coffee and smashed it across my attacker's face, burning him as well as slapping him. The wooden platter splintered and shattered, and all I was left with were two small sticks in either hand. I turned to my right and smacked the other man in the face with both of the sticks, causing him to reel back in pain. I spun around and threw one of my wooden weapons towards a yet unaffected attacker, and he dodged the missile. I threw the last one at him as well and rolled over the bench, barely escaping the torrent of semi-automatic rounds that pummeled into the wooden top. I fell on the other side of the bench, and came face-to-face with the elderly lady, who was now cradling her head with fear.

I wanted to tell her that it was going to be ok, but I couldn't. Something stopped me, and I don't know what. So instead I leapt back over the bench in a rage. I placed both my feet firmly on the wooden top and launched myself towards my attackers, who were having a very hard time keeping track of me. My right foot landed on the right shoulder of one of the attackers, reared my left leg back like David Beckham going for a goal and, using my right foot as a guide, I whipped my left forward, nearly decapitating him. His whole body shuddered and snapped backwards, and my leg kept traveling and followed through, so I used its momentum to allow me to flip my body backwards. It seemed as if time had slowed down, and before any of the attackers even knew it I had brought my foot down, toe first, on top of another man's head, shattering his spine instantly. I fell to the ground roughly and crouched low, before extending my leg yet again and knocked the feet from underneath my second-last attacker.

I turned behind myself and stared down a barrel of a basic Berretta police-issue handgun. He pulled the trigger, and I fell, only to ram my fist into the man's gut. The man wheezed heavily and dropped his pistol, allowing me sufficient time grab hold of his head and slam it onto the bench. I reared it back up and slammed it down again, and again, and again. I pulled his head back for a final time, and his eyes were glazed over. He must've been dead, but I had to make sure. I let go of his hair that I clutched and brought my other hand down, palm flat and vertical, onto the man's adam's apple. The force of the blow was so strong it forced the man's body to increase its descent onto the floor, and it smashed with such a force it almost cracked the tiles.

The final man regained balance and pulled himself to his feet, gun still in hand.

"Who am I?" I demanded, but I received no reply.

The man simply dropped the gun and fled in terror.

Silence befell the Diner, the only noise emanating from a retro jukebox.

_We're gonna rock rock rock aro-und the clock!_

The elderly lady slowly peeped out from her hiding place, in unison with almost everyone else.

The child started crying, the man in the t-shirt tried to rescue what remained of his coffee, and the man with lust in his eyes emerged from behind the girl's back.

He would have a lot of explaining to do.

I left the diner in a hurry. I just killed three men, and I don't have any regrets.

_What am I?_


	2. The Smiling Assassin strikes again

**The Smiling Assassin strikes again**

I was still in a haze after the fight I had with the four strangers.

If you can even call it that.

I continued to walk down the street, the diner far behind me, its yellow glow now lost in the thick haze of sleet and rain. All I could see was a world drenched in black water, where not even cars dared travel. I saw no more light, and no more life in this rundown section of Jump City.

How could I remember the name of this city, yet nothing about me?

I was blinded by rain as well as confusion. I walked as frequently as I stumbled. Every time I tried to bring my head about what I had accomplished, a new question pops in, and I am forced back to square one.

I did not pay attention to where I was walking. I was drowning in a sea of thoughts, emotions and gut-wrenching feelings. Uncertainty plagued me; an aura of fright surrounded me, enveloped and suffocated me. The more I struggled to escape its dark clutches, the harder it pulled, dragging me back down. Every step I took was potentially taking me further away, and yet closer, to the answers I seek. I had no-where to go, no-one to turn to, no-one could help me.

No-one.

The cracked footpath rose slightly and I found myself putting slightly more effort in each step as I forced myself to continue walking and endure the rain. The world was against me, I surmised, but I'll be damned if I let it defeat me.

_Why hide?_

Why hide? Exactly, why hide? Why hide from the rain? I stopped walking once more and closed my eyes. I slowly tilted my head upwards and felt the heavy droplets strike my face, creating miniscule rivers upon my eyelids and cheeks before following the trail of least resistance and falling off, spiraling forever downwards into the blackness of the sidewalk. I remained motionless with my eyes held tightly shut, simply allowing the rain to drench my whole body. I could almost feel my sins being washed away, every droplet carrying with it an unwanted memory.

_Perhaps my memories were unwanted, that's why I have forgotten them…_

Thunder rolled lazily through the charcoal sky, following in the wake of sporadic flashes of light. It rumbled, and I could feel it reverberating within me. It was music, I thought. It was Mother Nature's music, her way of communication.

_Music to my ears…_

I still kept my eyes closed tightly, and my hearing was heightened. The thunder was louder, more pronounced and distinct. A distant wailing of a lone squad car chasing the latest criminal horror met my ears. A peculiar, human wail, a cry of terror, of pain, before being abruptly cut off populated the air. I flinched slightly, the thought of another life extinguished almost too much to bear.

I opened my eyes, and drops of water stung my pupils. I blinked away the irritation and continued to walk up the street, my hands buried deep within my pockets. The note still resided in there, and I fingered it nervously.

As I reached the apex of the slight incline I walked upon, I noticed a rusted metal rubbish bin that struggled to stand upright beside the road. It had metal pole embedded deep in the concrete as a base, which then separated into thinner, metallic tentacles that wrapped around a black plastic inner lining. Upon a pile of crushed aluminum cans and plastic fast-food wrappers, I noticed another newspaper, this one dated a few days ago. I scavenged it from the bin and read the headline.

_The Smiling Assassin Strikes Again._

_Jump City and its residents were shocked after the brutal slaying of controversial senator George Grialdi. Grialdi was in his the kitchen of his top storey penthouse in Jump Residents when the killer, known only as The Smiling Assassin due to his constant smiling, broke in and murdered Grialdi with a samurai sword dating back to Feudal Japan, experts say, as the weapon was found at the scene. Detective John Carter declined to comment._

Images polluted my mind, and I dropped the newspaper in confusion. I saw strange things, unwanted things. I also heard things, voices, laughter. I heard commands, orders as well, all from the same voice. Who was he? Why was he so significant? I punched the bin in frustration, and the pain wracked my hand, traveling almost instantaneously up my arm and into my spine.

I simply grimaced and continued my slow, depressed footsteps, the images long gone.

As the rain pounded relentlessly upon my back, I absent-mindedly turned right, into a dank alleyway.

Overflowing faded green dumpsters leaned precariously on either side of the rubbish-littered street, barely wide enough for a motorbike to travel safely through. Shredded posters from a world that no-one from this place of desolation cares about inhabited the stained brick walls, portraying concerts and exhibitions five years too late. Broken bottles, shattered dreams and living nightmares accompanied rats, raccoons and various other city-dwelling scavengers.

Normally, this alley would be reserved for the homeless seeking shelter from the mean streets outside as they huddled over a pathetic smoldering flame that resided in an open top metal barrel, with small flickers of fire shooting out from cracks and tears in the rusted metal. Now, the sheet of rain simply smothered all manner of heat that attempted to gain a threshold in the harsh environment outside the walls, and the bums that called this alley home had fled to safer – and presumably warmer – parts of the suburb.

Shadows, so many shadows, yet I didn't notice them.

_No! He mustn't go there! He will be ambushed, I can tell, he is already being followed by four of his men._

_He will be surrounded! I must save him…_

I continued to walk, oblivious to my surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I noticed movement, a discrepancy in the simple yet cluttered layout of this alley. It was a shadow, similar to all the others, but when I turned my head to gain a better look at it; it disappeared.

I whirled around rapidly, my world a blur as my eyesight struggled to keep up with my movement. My eyes readjusted rapidly, but I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Just a dark corner of the alley, that's all. I'm imagining things.

I turned my back to the corner and continued through the shadows.

A scuffle! I whirled around again, this time even my hair had trouble keeping up. Still nothing. I was hearing things. It was probably just a rat, I reassured myself. Just a rat.

Yeah, right.

My eyes lingered on where I thought the noise had originated from, but I tore them away and kicked a discarded can in frustration. It rattled noisily down the alley, bouncing over small pebbles and rocks that lay in its path.

A yell! For a final time I turned, and instead of an empty corner, I gazed upon a bizarre sight.

It was that of a man, similar to one of those I had dispatched earlier in the diner, except this time I wasn't the center of his attention. He was parrying with another person, a female, who wielded two eloquently designed daggers, with curved, silver blades that glistened in the combination of rainwater and moonlight. I was seeing things. I must be.

I could not take my eyes of the figure wielding the daggers. It was a woman of immense beauty, and yet deadly passion. She had short black hair with a slight fringe that was now matted atop her head due to the rain, and she was clothed in a skintight black outfit that accentuated her athletic form perfectly. Her eyes however, were what made my heart do back-flips. How could I resist such vibrant blue-black eyes? The answer was simple, and also fatal.

I couldn't.

I was mesmerized, mesmerized by the rage that filled her eyes, the pure _passion _that flowed freely from them. She thrust her blades, but the man leapt backwards and avoided the lunge. He took her slight unbalance as an advantage and reared his fist back to strike. His clenched hand whistled forward, but the mysterious woman dodged the punch and grabbed hold of the man's arm, turning around and lifting it up and over her shoulder before pulling it and throwing the man over herself and causing him to crash into the brick wall. He groaned in pain and attempted to stand up, but the mysterious woman did not allow for him to defend himself. Instead she bent down and impaled the man with one of her daggers, narrowly missing his spine, and then finally finished him off by swiping across his throat, almost lopping off the man's head. The man slumped to the ground with a sigh, his soul already departed.

"Quickly! We must run!" She warned me, her voice mysterious and accent foreign. Judging from her speech, I surmised that she was Eastern European, perhaps Ukrainian or Russian. She took hold of my arm and, before I had a chance to protest, she led me –with some difficulty, as my feet were dragging on the ground in shock- from the darkness of the alley and into the street.

The mysterious woman hailed a decrepit taxi that had just happened to be passing through -quite fortunate actually- its once vibrant yellow colour now worn and covered in a thin layer of rust, and ushered me inside without another word. The cab driver, a middle-aged man whose appearance dictated that he was from the Middle-Eastern states, took one look at the mysterious woman's daggers and her curious attire and spoke in a thickly accented voice. "Where to?"

"2541 Brooke Street Salisburn. And hurry, please." She said once more, peering through the rear window as she spoke. She noticed three men emerge from the alley, each one more menacing then the last as they raised their weapons to open fire.

"Drive now!" She commanded, and the driver hastily obeyed, pushing the pedal down on his car and revving the worn out engine past its threshold. It whined noisily, and the car shot down the wet street, its tires slipping and sliding madly as they attempted to gain a foothold on the asphalt.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask, before my mouth failed to operate once again. The mysterious woman simply looked at me and smiled sadly. "I will explain everything once we reach my apartment."


	3. The Search for the Smiling Assassin

**The Search for the Smiling Assassin.**

The taxi screeched to an abrupt halt in front of a dingy four-storey building. My body shifted slightly forward as my momentum ceased, before I landed back on the torn cotton seat. I gazed through the dusty cab window and into the wet and windy world outside. Through the relentless rain, I managed to make out the unique architecture that complimented the almost archaic building. This building had a history, something that if someone had the time to sit down and examine, they would find a timeline previously thought non-existent.

Now, all this once proud building was good for was shielding crack-addicts and whores from the law.

The mysterious woman hurriedly paid the cab driver his fare and she grabbed my arm again before pulling me forcefully out of the car. The driver seemed almost grateful to see us go, and he sped off quickly into the curtain of rainwater. I lost sight of him and his car almost instantly.

The mysterious woman continued to tug at my sleeve, directing me to the front door, swinging open the metal security grate and fumbling with the lock before opening it as well with a loud creak. I followed her inside willingly, grateful to be finally out of the rain. She proceeded up the stairs, her pulling less forceful now, as she had realized that I was prepared to follow. After circling up the building three times, she exited the stairwell and approached a door labeled '3F'.

Fumbling with the lock once more, the woman swung the door wide open with a cringe-worthy squeak and walked through, holding it ajar for me as she entered, and after a second's hesitation I followed her in.

The woman dropped her blood-stained daggers on the table then turned to face me. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, and her hair fell accordingly, covering half of her face in black strands. She had a lopsided smile underneath her button nose as she studied me for a moment, before lunging at me and wrapping her hands around my neck in a manner that suggested we were not 'just friends'.

She locked her lips onto mine and kissed me passionately, causing me to lose myself in the heat of the moment.

"No." I managed to mumble, before pushing her away from me and breaking the kiss. She seemed hurt, but quickly regained her casual disposition as she stepped back.

"I should've known. You don't know who I am, do you?"

I shook my head. Finally! Someone who understands!

She sighed and sat down on a checkered green and brown sofa.

"My name is Skya." She said, pronouncing it 'Skee-ya'. "Don't you remember?"

I shook my head again. Should I?

Her lower lip quivered. Tears welled up underneath her amazing blue-black eyes and she forcibly closed her eyelids, willing them back.

"I-I'm sorry." I uttered, unsure of what to make of this. Here was an amazingly beautiful woman, a woman who had just killed someone before in order to save me, and she was now crying because I didn't remember who she was.

"Don't be." She spoke softly, before standing up and walking towards another door.

"The bathroom is in there. Have a shower and freshen up, we'll talk once you're ready."

"No." I said once again, this time with more force.

"I'm sick of this… this running, killing, whatever. Tell me what the fuck is going on, right now." I demanded, slightly astonished at the string of words that were spilling from my lips.

I expected her to be shocked, angry, sad or maybe just indifferent to my outburst. I certainly wasn't expecting her to smile, so when she did, I completely forgot what I was planning to follow up with.

"Just like old times. You haven't changed one bit. Very well, what would you like to know?"

I took a deep breath. Finally, she could provide me with the answers I seek! I could've asked her what my name was, how old I was, what I was doing wandering the streets of rundown downtown, but no, instead I decided on perhaps the least helpful of all questions available to ask:

"Why are those men after me?"

"They're hired thugs, armed and sent by a man called Vladimir, to keep an eye on you, so you don't cause any damage."

_Vladimir… why does that sound familiar…?_

"Vladimir?" I repeated, images suddenly flooding back. Abrupt, abstract shapes, flashes of black, red, orange and silver filled my mind with confusion and utter anarchy. I cradled my head in both of my hands, and for the first time since my realization that I had no idea what my history was, I examined them.

They weren't old, perhaps eighteen to nineteen years, but as my gaze traveled down my hand to my wrist and forearm, I saw small red marks, indicating signs of narcotics abuse. I looked at my other hand and it was populated with the same cluster of red dots, and my mouth fell open in shock.

"Wha-What is this?" I shouted, pointing to my right wrist with my left hand. The woman –Skya- simply continued to smile. "You still don't remember? Hazeem was afraid of this, afraid of the side-effects-." She began to state, but she cut herself off and turned away.

"Please. You must rest. Clean up, have a shower and we'll talk. I promise."

I sighed exasperatedly. "Very well. But then we shall talk." Skya simply nodded in response. I left the living room and entered the bathroom, swinging the door shut a little too hard.

I removed my clothes and turned the dull silver knobs, causing a soothing torrent of warm water to erupt from the showerhead. I sighed again, but this time in relief and comfort, as I stepped inside and pulled the shower curtain closed. A thick, steamy fog was enveloping me and warming my body. I finally felt at peace.

I took this time to examine my arms in more detail, and I noticed that the red dots were not scattered haphazardly all over my forearms like that of typical junkie injection fashion, but rather they were in orderly lines, traveling all the way from my wrist to my elbow. I ran my fingers over the spots and cringed slightly. They were tender… as if the 'operation' was a recent one…

_Another piece of the puzzle…_

I let my arms hang limply beside me and continued to bathe. I must've spent a good twenty minutes showering, and when I dried myself with a dirty yellow towel that hang from a protruding hook in the tiled wall, I slipped into the same clothes I had been wearing before I entered the apartment and turned to face my reflection in the clouded mirror. I raised my left hand and wiped away the moisture from its surface, and I revealed a young man in his late teens, with straight black hair and emerald green eyes. I noticed a dark shadow on my chin and above my lip, stressing the fact that I had not shaved in a few days. It wasn't a particularly well-built jaw, but it wasn't flimsy either. It was solid, but my cheeks looked as if they had seen better days. They were sunken and pale, and the cheekbones could be seen protruding from them. As a matter of fact, now that I examined my reflection more thoroughly, I noticed the tell-tale signs of lack of sleep, as my eyes were bloodshot with black shadows beneath them. I felt my skin on my face with my fingers, and it felt gaunt, almost rubbery in texture.

I stepped away from the basin and dried my hair thoroughly, before exiting the bathroom.

"Feel better?" Skya asked with a small smile. I couldn't help but smile back.

"Much. Thank you. And about my previous outburst… I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that after trying to help me."

Skya turned away and a slight reddish hue enveloped her cheeks. She was blushing. "This isn't like you, and I suspect your apologies still hold the same merit as they did before your bout of amnesia, but for what it's worth, apology accepted." She turned back to face me and grinned, flicking away a few loose strands of black hair from her eyes with a quick shake of her head. "Now we can focus on the matter at hand. Explaining your history to you."

"About time! Please, tell-." I began, but I was harshly cut off by the incessant wail of police sirens, cutting through the thick air and my heart.

Skya's eyes widened ten-fold. She didn't speak for a moment, but eventually she was compelled to do so. "You must leave. Now. I cannot explain."

"No! Perhaps they are not coming this way, maybe we will be lucky and-."

Skya shook her head vigorously. "No, I cannot take that chance. Please, you must go!"

Now my eyes widened. I was so close! So close to finding out who I really was! Now my chance, my opportunity was fleeing like a common crook from the law.

_Perhaps that is all she is, a crook, a criminal._

The police sirens drew closer. They were right outside the apartment now. I heard tires screech painfully on the wet asphalt, and I saw the whole street outside the rear window bathed in red and blue. I could hear the car doors of police cruisers opening quietly and slamming shut forcefully. They would be here soon, but why? How did they find out?

"Why must I leave?"

"I told you I cannot explain. Take the fire escape, please! For me!"

For her? But I did not know her…did I?

I could hear heavy, rubber-soled boots pounding on the termite infested wooden floorboards as they increased their pace and traveled surely up the stairs.

"Go! NOW!"

"But where am I to go!" I demanded exasperatedly, her forceful pushing causing me to approach the window against my will.

The heavy footfalls ceased, right in front of the apartment door. A moment's silence followed, before a blunt, heavy object crashed into the door, making it buckle and sway slightly. The echo didn't even have time to dissipate before another crash resounded through the moldy living room.

"Follow the note! Find the Smiling Assassin!" She yelled over the crashing, and behind her the wooden door fell inwards, its hinges splintered and shattered.

_The note… Titans' Tower…_

_The Smiling Assassin? I am somehow involved with him?_

I leapt through the window just before Skya turned her back to me and lunged at the five heavily armed police officers, scooping up her daggers in the process.

I never saw what happened next, only heard it. The screams of pain, of terror, of despair. They followed me all the way down the rusted metal fire stairs, each breath I took causing another breath to cease forever.

I heard the blades whistle through the stale air before slapping noisily on flesh and bone. I heard the screams slowly die down; one by one they faltered and fell, each swipe silencing another voice.

Then came a gunshot, and the screams and swipes were no more.

Why was I so important? Why did a woman of sensuous beauty and amazing skill just give her life to save me? Why did I kill three men before with a strange lack of regret? Why is going to Titans' tower so important to ensure my survival?

I could answer the last question at least, I thought to myself grimly. Hopefully the people in there could provide me with the answers I seek.

I snaked my way past the deserted squad cars, their lights still flashing rhythmically on and off in a mesmerizing pattern in a wave of red and blue and even contemplated stealing one, but I quickly shook that thought out of my head. Squad cars are easy to track, and I wouldn't even get past this street before I had the whole precinct on my tail. No, I would have to use my feet.

I popped the collar of my black coat and thrust my hands in my pockets before slowly walking towards the 'richer' part of town.


	4. The Old Man in the Fair

**The Old Man in the Fair.**

For forty-five minutes I walked in silence, the only sound emanating from my footsteps. I had approached life. Finally. Light was a more frequent occurrence then before, and it effortlessly flooded the rain-drenched streets and the graffiti-stained walls. Vehicles and their respective operators were more willing to traverse this part of the neighbourhood then the one where the mysterious woman saved me.

I stopped traveling and leant on a slightly bent metallic light-post, its yellow glow drenching me in a sickeningly cheery colour. I tolerated it for the moment, even though I felt a strange sense of exposure.

I tilted my head upwards and noticed in the distance a gargantuan building shaped like a capitalized 'T' residing on a miniscule, circular island in the centre of the bay. I removed the address from the pocket and checked it once again. There was no mistake, no misinterpretation. I had to somehow get on that island. I sighed exasperatedly and pushed my shoulder off the post, propelling myself slightly forward as I continued my descent towards the bay.

_Perhaps they have ferry services at this time of night…?_

I stepped on the wooden pier and rested my palms on the splintered railing. I breathed in and out deeply, taking precautionary measures to not explode in anger at this point in time. I turned my head to the left and right of me, but there was not a soul in sight. My gaze soon rested upon the closed theme park, with its towering iron gates forbidding anyone to enter and even taller Ferris wheel that stood silent and foreboding, its once jovial atmosphere now wrenched away by the darkness and the need to rest, leaving only a circular mass of metal and bolts.

I checked to see if anyone else was present. Which was quite stupid, actually, as the rain had driven everyone off the streets and into their homes.

Although the rain had subsided a fair bit, and only a heavy mist remained.

I approached the rusted gates and clutched two bars with both my hands. I pulled them slightly; half hoping they would just pop off their hinges. I may have exceptional close-combat skills, but superman I aint, I reminded myself.

I looked up and gauged the height of the gate. I took a few steps back, letting go of the iron bars and decided that it was roughly thirteen feet tall. I retreated even more until my back bumped into a public restroom. Then I ran. I planted my feet firmly on the ground and ran, harder, faster, picking up speed until…

Now!

I propelled myself into the air, feeling the wind rush at my face as I cut through it like a knife. It was not enough. I fell onto the gate and held on tightly, slipping ever so slightly as the paint scraped off beneath my palms. I pulled myself effortlessly upwards, one arm after the other as if I had been doing this my whole life. Using the horizontal crossbars as ladder rungs I flipped myself over the tip of the gate and let myself fall to the ground.

_Oh My God… Why the Hell did I just do this? I'm going to die for sure…_

WHACK. I landed perfectly on both my legs like a professional acrobat completing his signature move. The landing was immaculate. I straightened up and brushed myself off nonchalantly.

_I can get used to this…_

As soon as I had recovered from my superhuman jump, however, I was forced to quickly duck behind a fairy-floss vendor, as three police cruisers sped down the darkened street, their lights flashing brightly and their tires splashing a mist of water from the asphalt to the pavement.

_They're still after me…_

Once I was absolutely positive the police had left the area, I slowly rose from my hiding place and began to walk past rows of haunting dark Fair games. I approached one game where the objective was to topple a pyramid of heavy tin cans with an equally as heavy rubber ball. I removed a dull red ball from the wooden basin in front of me and gazed at the cans. I juggled the ball with my hands, before winding up and releasing it with an awesome force. It rocketed towards the cans and knocked every single one off the pedestal.

I left that particular game and approached another. The aim of this one was to hit the bulls-eye on various diminutive targets with a rigged air-rifle. I grasped one of the rifles and brought the aiming reticule up to my eyes. I gazed upon the playing area and fired one shot.

I missed by four centimeters. I cursed silently and made to leave, before a sudden realization dawned upon me. I picked up the rifle again and aimed through the reticule once more, except this time I swerved the rifle slightly to the left of the target. I fired another shot, and I hit the target spot-on. I moved to another and mimicked what I had just done moments ago. It worked, and a resounding clang echoed through the empty fairgrounds. I swerved the barrel towards every target, firing repetitively. I hit every, single one.

I continued to walk through the open aisle. I restrained myself from stopping and playing with any other games; instead I focused on my main objective:

Getting to that island.

I arrived at the Ferris wheel that I had spotted from outside the fair. I approached it cautiously and entered the lower-most carriage that was nestled neatly in its dock.

"Hey!" A gruff voice sounded in exclamation.

I whirled around to spot its owner. A weathered figure, slightly hunched over with a white mass of hair atop his wrinkled head, clutched an equally-as-old walking stick firmly beneath his lopsided form. I could tell that he was wearing dentures from the rather obvious fact that his teeth looked younger then he was. He looked grumpy, but the slight sparkle in his eyes told me that he was a man full of wisdom and that he also possessed the ability to share it with those who only bothered to listen.

"Good evening sir. I apologize for trespassing." I said as politely as possible. He simply gazed at me and smiled warmly.

"No harm done young man. Under ordinary circumstances I would be forced to call the police, but these are extraordinary times…" He ceased talking and turned his elderly grey eyes to the twinkling city lights three hundred meters and a world away. I tipped my head to the left curiously. "How so?" I asked.

The old man sighed before turning to face me. "Would you like to come to my office for some tea or coffee?" This time it was my turn to smile.

"You are a very kind man to offer a complete stranger who just broke the law a place to rest and a warm drink. Kind or foolish, I have not yet decided." I added the last part with a slight chuckle, and the man laughed with me.

"You know how it is, the older you get the more you desire some company. You are a good man, I can tell, and that is why I trust you. Please, follow me." The man beckoned, and I followed. Once again, I was following.

We arrived at a small wooden shack that resided precariously on the edge of the pier, and from within its bowels yellow light seeped through the windows and landed on the porch outside. The old man approached his doorway and held it open for me to enter first. I walked inside, and my immediate thought was 'cozy'. There was a small pile of blankets and a pillow or two strewn messily in one corner of the room, vaguely resembling a rectangular shape which I assumed to be the sleeping area. On the other side of the shack, which was actually only two meters away, a small bench was nestled comfortably in the corner of the northern and eastern wall. Atop the bench was an electric kettle, a few jars that were labeled 'Coffee' 'Tea' and 'Sugar' and various cutlery that resided beside a monitor that occasionally flickered to different camera feeds.

"Please, sit." He motioned for me to take a chair, and I did so.

"Thank you." The man simply smiled and nodded. He gestured to the bench behind him.

"What would you like? Tea, coffee, or boiled water?" I raised an eyebrow. Was he being serious? Boiled water? "Tea please" I replied without even thinking. The man nodded quickly again and poured some steaming water into a mug, before applying the tea bag and stirring. "Would you like milk, sugar or lemon?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any honey would you?" I inquired, slightly shocked at myself for demanding things, even if it was in a polite manner. The old man shook his head sadly. "Very sorry young man, but I ran out of honey only two nights ago."

"Thanks anyway. I'll have sugar then please. Two scoops."

_What the Hell? Since when do I have tea with honey or, failing that, sugar, precisely two scoops of it! How come I know this, but nothing else?_

The old man handed me the mug and I clutched it tightly, feeling the warmth travel through my numb fingers up to my chest. I felt the steam emanating from the tea itself, and I hovered my face over the pillar of warmth, allowing it to strike my cheeks and closed eyes and spread all over. It was a welcoming feeling, and I savored every second of it.

"Thank you for this, but I must ask: How could you tell that I was a trustworthy person?"

The old man laughed heartily. "Because if you weren't then I wouldn't have invited you in, now would I?"

I grinned "But what caused you to invite me here in the first place?"

"Because I saw that you were trustworthy, of course!" I sighed exasperatedly. This old man enjoyed toying with me, I surmised. Either that or perhaps he has lost a few marbles.

All of a sudden fear clutched my heart in its cold grip when a sudden realization dawned upon me.

_Every person I have met in this twisted night have either died or left worse for wear…_

"Strange times… Stranger then I have ever seen before in my sixty-odd years of living here in Jump City."

I turned to face the old man, who was in turn gazing out into the city once more. I didn't reply, and he continued.

"It seems that, not only is a murderous assassin on the loose in Jump City, but the Titans are all but… well, they're not working like they used to."

The Titans… "Are they the ones who live in the large, 'T' shaped building on the island?" The old man nodded.

"Aye. However, as of late they have been drifting slowly apart, and no-one knows why. That is not all however. There have been sightings, strange sightings of unnatural creatures, creatures that belong in fairy tales, not in a metropolis."

"Creatures? What kind of creatures?" The old man sighed.

"Some think them to be humans, others, wolves. 'Werewolves' is the more common term for them."

_Werewolves? In Jump City?_

"Werewolves are a myth, they aren't real creatures."

"Heh… Many people would hope that, but unexplained attacks from these so-called 'werewolves' have been steadily rising, but that's not the best part. Sightings of vampires, gargoyles, ghosts, even, have all been increasing. Some have gone as far as to say that they saw an angel. But of course, this is just crazy talk. The point is, the city is slowly falling into chaos, and the Titans seem disinterested to help maintain order. Strange times indeed…"

_What have I gotten myself in to?_

"What do you know of the Smiling Assassin?" I asked innocently.

"Only what they show us in the newspapers or on TV. That he's a bloodthirsty maniac who's extremely good at what he does." I nodded. This Smiling Assassin is a mystery, but a mystery that I intended to unravel.

"Excuse me, but I really must visit these Titans. Do you know of any way to cross the bay and reach their island?" The man's eyes brightened at this moment.

"Of course! I have my boat moored right outside! Finish your tea and we can go." He spoke enthusiastically, and I quickly sculled my drink without a second thought. I practically ran outside, astounded at my sudden bout of good fortune, and the man exited just behind me.

"This way. Hop in!" He said with a slight aura of pride at showing of his…boat?

It was a literal tin can. Where there once used to be wooden seats, broken and splintered pieces of wood remained, daring anyone stupid enough to sit on them. Countless assortments of fishing equipment littered the entire dinghy, and I had to take precautionary measures so as to not place myself atop a loose hook. The engine that propelled this boat was steered, not by a steering wheel, but by a metal rod attached to it, which prompted the driver to sit at the rear of the boat. Thankfully, the boat was not that fast and therefore presented no immediate threat to my health, traveling at only fifteen knots.

Before long we had arrived at the island, and the bow of the dinghy bumped gently on the sandy shore. I hopped off, and shook the old man's hand before waving him off. It then occurred to me that I never asked for his name.

_I seem to have a bad habit for not for asking people's names, including my own…_


	5. Nametags

**Nametags.**

I approached the intimidating front entrance of the Tower. I felt an unsettling sense of closure now that I was covered in nothing but darkness, and the moon's spooky light seemed to completely _avoid _this particular building and its surrounding premises altogether. I raised a fist and knocked, once twice, three times, and stepped back cautiously. I heard the echo of my hard rapping on the titanium door reverberate through the hollow interior, but no movement ensued.

I waited patiently for a few moments whilst my mind ran over tonight's bizarre string of events. Before I had a chance to mill over my current situation however, the doors in front of me opened slowly inwards and there in front of me stood an abomination.

"Yeah? What is it?" It asked tiredly, its one human eye blinking rapidly in order to stave away sleep whilst its other, robotic red eye simply stared emotionlessly at my still form. I tilted my head upwards in order to meet the stare of this half-man, half-machine creature, with titanium swirls of blue and white molded with slaps of gray that were seen in sporadic intervals. If he were fully human, he would be of African-American descent, however the only skin I managed to spot were on a small section of his skull and face.

"Uh… I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour, but…" I faltered. What the HELL was I going to say? The robotic individual raised a human eyebrow impatiently. "…but I was sent here by an associate who said that you could help me with a problem I've been having." The hulking mass didn't reply, instead he/it nodded calmly and stepped to one side, allowing me sufficient room to pass. I entered, and the doors shut behind me.

"You caught me at a bad time, Mr…?" The towering man spoke as he stooped down to pick up a discarded glass from the dusty carpet.

I tore my gaze from the obviously trashed foyer of the building and faced the metal-man once more. "That is my problem, I don't know, and I was hoping you or the others would." The titanium mass broke the glass that he clutched, and I feared for my life.

He sighed and continued to walk. "There are no others." I halted in mid-progress.

"I do not understand. I was under the impression that there were more then just one."

The man proceeded through the doorway, but I noticed that he carried a heavy heart beneath his steel armor. He didn't bother turning around to address me, only spoke over his shoulder in a manner that could only suggest that he did not wish for me to see his face. The next two words would strike a blow to my heart the likes of which would take an age or more to recover from. My final lead, my last hope at finding out who I really am, who I was, who I shall become, was torn away from me by the cruel hands of fate.

Lady Luck's a bitch.

"They're dead."

I experienced tunnel vision. I experienced euphoria, deep depression, sadness, happiness, and they all co-mingled to create one single emotion that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

I felt despair. Clear and utter despair. Why? I didn't know these people. Did I? This cannot be, they can't be dead, the fates can't be that cruel to me, can they? Did I perhaps do something in a past life that led me to suffer the consequences now, when I am at my most vulnerable state? Why must I ask these questions, when all I really need to find out was my name?

"How?"

The one question I could tell the sad lump of metal and bones did not wish to hear. Perhaps he was fed up recalling that fateful moment, perhaps he simply did not believe himself when he recollected those memories from a dark corner of his circuitry. "If you're suffering from amnesia, then I suggest you go to the police or the hospital, I'm sure they could help you." He said in a low, melancholic tone. I fell to my knees and cradled my head in my hands.

_My final lead… except for The Smiling Assassin…_

"You don't understand." I began, fighting brutally hard to keep my voice steady. "I have nowhere else to go. I have no home, or at least, none that I _know _of, no family, and only a note in my pocket directing me here. To top this night off, the one woman who seemed like she had the capability to help me was killed by the police, and in her dying breath she directed me here. What do you suppose I do now?"

"Go to someone else. Find someone else, I don't care. I haven't cared in a while now. Just leave." He said so coldly, I could almost see his lips turn blue.

"I can't leave. I have come so far, you don't under-." I attempted to finish, but the man I was addressing, who I would later come to know as Victor, snapped in anger at that point. "No, _you _don't understand. We have spent our whole lives helping the down-trodden, the weak, the pathetic, like you, only to have ourselves spat on, sneered at, for reasons even to this day I still _don't know._ But we persevered, we continued fighting the good fight, wasting away our teenage years doing something that we knew deep down wouldn't last. And then one of us decided to leave and return to us in a casket, and that was the end of that. I can't help you, only the proper authorities can, now get out of my house."

I finally admitted defeat. There was no bargaining with him, he was beyond reasoning. "Very well then. I can see that I wasted my time in coming here." I sighed in utter hopelessness. "I'll go now." I spun on my heel and began to walk towards the exit of the building, only to hear the only remaining Titan, Victor, call for me to halt. I did so, and turned around once again. The thunder rumbled in deep baritones across the sinister black sky. "Look, I haven't, you know, 'been a Titan' for a couple of years now, and you caught me just when I was about to leave this place for good, as you can see-." He waved his white titanium hand carelessly around him "but I might be able to help you out." He sighed sadly and sat roughly down upon a lounge-room sofa, which squeaked loudly beneath his substantial bulk. It's just that, I've been living here, by myself, for six months now. The rest of the Titans are long gone, and if they're not dead then obviously they simply don't care about being a Titan anymore." He turned to me with a cold as stone face and continued "Tell you what, come in, get yourself a good sleep, because I can tell that you've been through a lot, and tomorrow we'll figure this mess out. However, if we're not able to sort it all by the end of this week, then I can't help you anymore, because I'm leaving interstate. Do we have a deal?"

For the second time tonight, I smiled in true appreciation of my change in luck. "Deal." I grinned, and extended my hand. He took it, and thus our friendship was formed.

However, I was perplexed by something, and I decided to voice it. "If your airplane leaves at the end of this week, then how come you were leaving tonight?"

Victor smiled grimly. "This house holds too many memories, each more painful then the last. Besides, it's simply too much house for one robot to handle."

I nodded silently. "Thank you, er…?"

"Victor. Victor Stone. Don't mention it. Just go upstairs and take any room you want _apart _from the ones with the name-tags, got it?"

"Understood. I guess I'll see you in the morning then?" Victor nodded in affirmation.

"Yeah. Then we can get a start on finding out who you are."

I picked myself up and proceeded towards the stairway. Each step I took upwards reminded me how of much my body had been through, and with each foot after another that I placed, I felt myself getting heavier, and my knees bent more sharply after each step. I eventually reached the next level without fainting from exhaustion, and literally dragged my feet to a spare bedroom. I spotted one room on the left wall, and quickly headed towards it, but my heart sank slightly once I noticed a name-tag on it. It read 'Robin', and as I drew closer I also noticed that the door was slightly ajar, so sparing a quick glance up and down the hallway, I stuck my head through the opening. The room was dead, and not a sigh emanated from its dark depths. I could tell that the occupant, this Robin, was a perfectionist of sorts, from the way the bed was immaculately done and not a speck of mess or dirt lay on the ground. I stepped in cautiously and ran my finger over a bedside cabinet. It was thick with dust, and my finger left a shaky trail in the deep grey blanket.

No-one had used this room, nor even stepped in for quite a while. The air was thick with lingering particles, and I could feel the secrets it held. I closed my eyes and opened my mind, allowing lost thoughts from a happier time, a time not so long ago in fact, to seep in.

_The True Master…_

_Training here wasn't enough…_

_Four people amusing themselves with his costume…_

I smirked slightly, but then I was struck with a heavy arrow laden with sadness and despair. These people had definitely seen easier times, and now they're gone. Their shouts of joy, their laughter, their smart remarks, nothing more then a fleeting memory, an echo within an echo, a gleam in a certain member's eye…

I bowed my head and walked out, my heart even heavier then when I had entered.

I took a few more steps and noticed another door, with yet another nametag. This tag was labeled 'Beast-B-.' I was unable to make out the rest, as someone had attempted to tear it off in an obvious fit of rage. Ignoring this, I slid open the door and walked in, only to be confronted with the polar opposite of what I had witnessed before. To call it a pigsty would be to insult our curly-tailed barnyard animals. Clothes and electronics scattered in a haphazard fashion, placed in areas that simply defied gravity. I simply gazed in meek wonder upon this bold outcry against modern conservatism. The thoughts in this room however, were even more tumultuous then the state of the room itself.

_Laughter, happiness…_

_Enjoyment, fulfillment…_

_Sadness? Heartbreak…_

_Betrayal._

Yes, this room has been through plenty. As I attempted to pry more into the history of the bedroom, my conscious mind kicked in, and I found myself running one question through my head: "How can I tell all this?"

I don't know! I acted on reflex, almost as if it was a sixth sense. I exited the room sadly. This member was betrayed. I know that much. I also know that it scarred him for life. Is that why he has gone?

I found my way to another room. I placed my palm on the gunmetal-gray door, only to retract it quickly as though I had been scalded. I read the nametag. 'Raven'

This door was harder to open then the others, but with some prying and pulling I managed to widen the gap large enough for me to slip through. One word simply crossed my mind as I lay my eyes upon this room. 'Wow'. A bookcase groaning with the combined weight of ancient tomes stood dauntingly to my left, adorned with pieces of abstract art and a curious pair of theatrical masks. The bed was circular and neatly covered in purple bed sheets as it rested in the center of the room. I swung my head around me. Everywhere I looked I saw depressing shades, darkened colours and a saddened soul. This room was haunted…

I approached a large vanity bench with a large mirror that enabled me to gaze upon my gaunt face once more, and noticed a beauty mirror lying on the floor just beside it.

_Depression…_

_Fear… Sadness…_

_Love?_

_Heartbreak…_

I lowered my hand slowly and reached for it.

_Bravery… Sadness…Anger…Intelligence…_

"_Stop…"_

I bolted upright, my eyes flicking to every corner of the room in order to spot the source of the mysterious voice.

"_What are you doing… Get out of my room…"_

Get. Out. I clutched my head, which felt as if it was being fed daggers through openings that shouldn't exist. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth in order to dull the pain. It was not enough.

"_Get out of my room! Now!"_

I lost my composure, along with my balance, and fell flat on my back. The room was no longer standing eerily still, but rather swirling madly, dancing like a drunken jester during Christmas Eve. It was anything but cheerful though. I felt the heat get sucked out of every single cell in my body, and I shivered instinctively. I managed to get back on my feet and with a silent cry I stumbled out of the room, clutching my heart with the same vigor as I was my head. I took a deep breath, but it felt as if the air had been chilled as well, and my lungs felt constricted. I shut the door wildly behind me and attempted to make my way to an empty room.

Two doors down, I found one, and I collapsed on the bed in utter exhaustion. I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.


	6. Losses on Both Sides

**Losses on Both sides.**

_I'm walking…_

_I walk, shadow surrounds me. Everything around me is pitch black, only my path is illuminated. I see a worn footpath that has been trodden on by countless individuals. I see that it has been recently used, I see footprints._

_But how do I see them?_

_I see slight disturbances in the soft, thin layer of dirt that covered each stone. I see treads, small and large._

_I look up and continue my walk. I hear nothing, except for my steady footfalls, one after the other._

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

_Nothing to see in my peripheral vision, so I focus my sight on the footpath I walk on. I can't even see whether the banks of the stone path meet grass, concrete or asphalt. Where am I going?_

_Then, I see something. I hear something. I sense something._

_Light. A house. An echo. Laughter. People. Life._

_Then, in one final blow, I am pulled back, as if I'm attached to a rubber band that has been stretched past its tether, and my feet almost drag on the pavement._

_I extend my hands in a desperate attempt to halt my progression backwards, but it was to no avail. _

I awoke with a sharp intake of breath and lifted myself out of the bed in one swift move, the sheets tumbling off my body and coming to a rest on my lap. I shook my head in more of a reflex action then anything else in a pointless attempt to rid myself of my disturbing dream

The pool of swirling thoughts remained with me as I lifted my weary body off the inviting bed and began to pace the room. With a grunt I parted the heavy curtains that shielded the windows and was met with a spectacular view of the glistening bay deep below me, twinkling under the morning sun like a thousand cut diamonds, making it the most expensive bay in the world. I smiled grimly and gazed at the city beyond the water's edge. It did well in concealing the skeletons in its closet, I thought to myself. There was no sign of the death that had occurred the night before, only smiling children on their way to school, ruffled and distinguished businessmen clutching their monotonous black suitcases as they arrived at their respective workplaces in the city's 'wealth-making' district and hunger-wracked seagulls eyeing young couples and families that had laid their feast out on the crisp green glass with great trepidation and hopefulness.

The storm had completely disappeared from the baby-blue sky, the only sign that it had hung ominously over Jump City the night before resided in the memories of those who bore witness to it. The peaceful scenery did nothing to calm my tumultuous soul, and I found my thoughts slowly drifting back to the horror I had witnessed the night before. To have three men's blood on your hands is not an easy thing to cope with, I thought to myself sadly. I sighed, and then yawned, before walking out of the room.

As soon as I exited the bedroom I came face to face, or perhaps face to chest, with Victor, a look of horror mingled with anger upon his half metallic face.

"Did…did you sleep in that room?" He asked disbelievingly. I simply nodded, half in puzzlement, half in fright.

"That was her room… That was Terra's room…" I tilted my head to the left in utter bewilderment. He seemed lost in his own thoughts now, talking to no-one but himself.

"Who is Terra?" I asked.

"_Was._ Who _was _Terra, you mean. I'll tell you when you need to know. Now however, there's something I think you'll find interesting. Just… don't sleep in that room. Ever again." He added the last part with a scowl and I simply nodded meekly.

As we walked towards the living area of the Tower, Victor began to explain what he had come to show me. Apparently, he had received a police report through the Titan's network, and there were a few discrepancies that he wanted me to solve. What little I had told him about the woman who had given her life to save me last night seemed to have become embedded within his mind, perhaps due to his computer circuitry never forgetting anything he heard, or maybe something more, I would never know.

"Here." He gestured towards a gargantuan television screen that hung ominously on the back wall of the room, one that I had failed to notice last night when I arrived. Just beneath the glass display there was a magnified formal report that stated the criminal activities that had occurred the night before, and in bold writing were the words:

**THREE MEN KILLED IN DINER BRAWL. REMAINS OF THREE YEAR OLD CHILD (GENDER UNCONFIRMED) FOUND IN ABANDONED APARTMENT. SMILING ASSASSIN GUNNED DOWN BY POLICE IN APARTMENT ROOM.**

My heart turned to ice. It felt as if someone had clutched it, squeezed it, torn it out and shoved back in such a haphazardly manner the Titan named 'Beast-B' (Who I assumed to have been called Beast-Boy) would be proud. How could she have been the Smiling Assassin? She told me to find the Assassin! She told me to find…her? Was this a small, seemingly insignificant piece of the puzzle that had just fallen into place?

"Is that the girl you were talking about?" Victor asked, nodding towards the screen. I nodded, but quickly shook my head. "Yes, I mean no… that was the woman, but she can't have been the Smiling Assassin. She was dangerous, most definitely, and a murderer, but she told me to _find _the Smiling Assassin!"

Victor nodded. "Let's read on then, shall we?" He raised an arm and made a clicking motion with his fingers. The text that involved the Smiling Assassin was the only piece of writing present for a moment, as all the other titles simply faded away, but they were instantly replaced with a small profile that detailed the exact information regarding that incident. I took a step closer and began to read.

_Thanks to a tip off by an anonymous individual, we were able to arrive at the apartment and attempt to apprehend the extremely dangerous individual, real name Skya Dilariodis. Refusing to lay down her weapons however, we were forced to open fire and kill the girl. We suspect another person was in the room at the time of the entering, but so far we have no eye-witnesses. Signed Detective John Carter, JCPD._

I tore my eyes away from the screen, my mouth hanging open limply in shock. My eyes were almost equally as wide, and I simply couldn't find the right words to say. The facts were all there, in front of me, but it seemed as if the mental cogs in my mind were jammed by this information, for they simply refused to turn, to comprehend it. I blinked, once, twice, three times and began my slow shuffle away from the living room.

"I need to go outside." I said distractedly and almost fell out of the front door, stumbling like a drunk. I emerged out on the miniscule spit of land and shielded my eyes from the relentless sunlight. Purple spots clouded my vision every time I blinked, but after allowing my pupils sufficient time to focus they disappeared and I fell to the warm dirt and crossed my legs in desperation. I didn't feel sad, I didn't feel as if I had suffered the loss of a partner, I only felt despair, yet again. Find the Smiling Assassin, she said, only for her to wind up being that Assassin. Follow the note, she said, and all I found was one lonely and dejected cybernetic human who had suffered more loss then I dare hope imagine. Both were dead ends, both led me absolutely nowhere. I gazed upon the sea, which was still sparkling in a way that would make the Queen of England's eyes water.

"I need to get off this island." I muttered, and I pulled myself with great effort to my feet. I stepped towards the water's edge and peered inside the cobalt-blue depths. My reflection faced me in a distorted and lopsided fashion, skewing my face to impossible lengths. Small ripples caressed the sandy sea bed as they rolled towards the shore and disrupted my water mirror. I lifted my head up and gazed towards the city, and the pier that held the carnival and housed the kindly old man that had given me a ride here last night.

_I have nowhere to go now… I have to stay here…_

I turned back to the tower and entered with my head hung low, like a child who has grudgingly returned home after a failed attempt to run away. Victor was standing there, his face as emotionless as it was the night I arrived on this island's shores. "How does one get off this island?" I asked slowly.

Victor simply raised an eyebrow, obviously towards the way I spoke. "_One _uses my car, but I haven't left this island in a long time. Why would you want to leave?"

I simply shrugged. "Time to think, perhaps begin my investigation, I don't know."

"We can start the investigation here. You can _think _here. The tower has all the facilities needed to conduct a formal inve-." I shook my head violently, disagreeing with every word that poured out from his mouth. "No. We don't need facilities, we need to leave. I need to leave. Please, I know I have asked so much from you since last night, but I need to put my suspicions to rest. I need to go back to that apartment."

Victor sighed. He gazed to his left and out into the blue sky beyond. With a look of resignation etched upon his metallic facial features he turned back to face me. "Fine. I'll take you to the shore. Here…" He began, reaching behind himself and taking hold of a small, circular object before handing it to me. I looked at it curiously for a few moments and relieved him of it. I brought it to my face and examined it more thoroughly. It seemed to me like a portable communication device with a faded black 'T' plastered on an equally as faded yellow cover. I slipped it into my pocket as Victor continued to speak. "That will let you communicate with me and vice versa. If you ever need any help just open it up and press this button on the side. Then just speak into it and I'll receive the message." I continued to examine the circular communicator, but Victor beckoned for me to follow him and before long we had reached the garage entrance. With a slight grunt he pushed the door to the side. It creaked noisily as its rusted rollers protested against this sudden movement.

My eyes were met with a stunning sight, not unlike that of 'Beast-B'. All manner of insects, bugs and various other multi-legged creatures seemed to have called this room home, setting up shop in darkened corners and crevices. The light from the hallway behind me cast a sharp pillar of yellow colour onto the concrete floor before it came to a rest on an obviously neglected piece of machinery. This must have been Victor's method of transportation, I surmised. Bulky, aggressive and ultra-mean, this vehicle was obviously made for speed, nothing more. It's white and blue exterior décor was starting to show its age, but I could see that once upon a time this used to be someone's pride and joy, and from the ever-so-subtle gleam in Victor's human eye, it was obvious to me that that certain someone was him. I felt a pang of sorrow when the reality sank in. Victor had obviously put so much effort into this machine; it almost seemed as if this was his escape to the slow deterioration of the team and his friendships.

_Perhaps if he put more effort in his team rather then his car…_

This was his escape from bleak reality. But this car looked derelict, forsaken, forgotten. Just like the team, it was nothing but a memory.

"Hop in. Let's see if this baby still runs." I put on a smile to hide my mixed thoughts and feelings, and got inside, slamming the door shut behind me. Victor entered beside me and inserted a floppy-disk-sized chip into a slot on the dashboard. The engine kicked over once, twice, three times, before springing to life with a low rumble that vibrated my insides uncomfortably. Victor turned to me, and I was shocked to see that he was actually _smiling. _"Hold on." He said strangely, before turning to face the front. At that moment I realized with crystal clear certainty that I was going to die.

The car shot off into the bay, creating a torrential geyser of water on either side of it as it hovered towards shore.


End file.
